2023 R2AK Prep - January
January 2023
"So if you are going to do this, you need to manage it like a project" Emma commented, as she is prone to doing.
To this point I had a few ideas of weekend training paddles, course campsite selection and logistics, but there were clearly some gaps. She's right, I thought. We sat down and made up an R2AK project plan thinking of every possible angle that we could to approach for a successful race.
We decided that such a big undertaking warranted partnering with a charity, and I landed on KidSport Victoria, an organization I knew from my time rowing at the Victoria City Rowing Club. I took charge of race planning, logistics, and scheduling, while Emma led food prep, sponsorship, and fundraising.
Training Day 1
The first training trip of the year took place in the second week of January. My plan was to paddle out to Saturna Island, where Emma would meet me by car with our dog, Rupert. I carried all the camping gear, stove, and water I expected to take at the start of the race to make the experience as realistic as possible. Emma, on the other hand, took her camping gear by car and agreed to meet me at Narvaez Bay on the east side of Saturna.
Understanding the limited daylight in January, I mapped out a 36 km out-and-back route, estimating it would take me about six hours with breaks, given my usual pace of 6.5–7 km/h (~3.5 knots).
I set off just before sunrise from Island View Beach with a calm southeast breeze pushing me north toward my intended path between James and Sidney Islands. About 10 strokes in, I realized this was not going to be a normal paddle. For the first time, I had a fully loaded boat carrying all my camping equipment and, more significantly, 15L of fresh water—what I expected to carry for portions of the race. I checked my watch for a speed readout: 6 km/h (3 knots). This was heavy and slow, but the excitement of my first real training day gave me an extra boost of energy, so I didn’t mind.
I made quick work of the first 15 km, stopping at the top of each hour for water and snacks. Checking my phone, I saw that Emma had made her ferry from Swartz Bay to Saturna. In the third hour, I rounded Brethour Island, northeast of Sidney Island, intending to follow the border south of Pender Island toward Saturna. Suddenly, the sea state changed. I had spent the last couple of hours in the relative calm of the leeward side of the island chain, but now I was being pushed to port. I considered heading to Moresby Island for a break, but with no good beaches in sight, I turned my bow straight into the wind in Swanson Channel for the next 20 minutes.
Progressing headfirst into 2–3 foot waves was painfully slow. I knew I didn’t want to continue on the exposed southeast path past Pender Island. I corrected my course to port and aimed for the opening at Peter Cove. A crossing I had expected to take 90 minutes ended up taking almost twice as long. The rough conditions made it difficult to let go of my paddle for food or water, meaning I hadn’t refueled in quite a while. I resolved to always take a water and food break before a committed crossing, and later, I rigged up a dromedary bag with a straw on my front deck for easier hydration.
I passed under the famous 1955 built Pender Island Bridge and beached at Mortimer Spit around 1 p.m. to stretch my legs. I crossed paths with some January weekend picnickers with some inflatables (don't you love the west coast?) who asked where I had launched from.
“Oh, just Island View Beach.”
“That’s pretty far. Must have been rough out there.”
“Yeah, a bit!”
After a short break, I checked in with Emma about my course change. She had already explored the campground and hiked to the top of the island. Since she had my location shared, she was aware of my new route. The last crossing of Plumper Sound was much less eventful. I even spotted a dozen feral goats along the southern cliffs of the island. Emma watched me paddle from shore until I disappeared below the treeline.
By the time I landed, dusk had set in. Stopping my watch, I saw the trip had taken about 2.5 hours longer than expected due to the heavy boat, headwinds, and a 6 km detour. Still, I was happy with the lessons learned.
“Why don’t you set up camp alone for practice, and I’ll make us dinner?” Emma suggested.
“Sure, but I’ll miss the cooking help during the race!”
Training Day 2
With the lessons of day one fresh in my mind and another windy day expected, I altered my route again, planning a 20 km trip around the northern half of the island. This would take me to Lyall Harbour, where I could cartop my boat and take the ferry home with Emma. A relatively easy day in comparison, I estimated it would take about four hours, with a potential detour to Tumbo Island, which I’d heard was a scenic spot.
Paddling along the south shore near East Point, I kept my eye out for whales, as these waters are a major transit area, but I didn’t spot any. Rounding the corner, I encountered an unexpected eddyline—a manageable but strong current that could cause a capsize. More importantly, it was a defined flow against my intended course. Later, Emma would tell me there was a sign at the lighthouse explaining that fresh water from the Fraser River takes time to mix with the ocean. Since fresh water is less dense, it floats on top of salt water, creating a constant southeast flow in Tumbo Passage.
Now on the north side of the point, the fog thickened, meaning any crossing to Tumbo Island would be blind. With the added current and a ferry to catch, I decided to stick to the island’s rocky shore. Over the next 15 km stretch, I didn’t see a single sandy beach. Fortunately, conditions were calm, but I noted that with a different wind direction, there would be no easy landing options.
A couple of hours later, I reached Boat Passage, where an ebbing flow pulled me through at about 4 knots. The disturbance in the water created big patches of sea foam from decaying algae. I always enjoy paddling through these—like a fresh snowfall, the foam dampens the water’s sound, making it feel as if you’re gliding through a cloud.
A quick turn around Digby Point, and I was done for the day—much less eventful than the first but still valuable. With time to spare before our ferry, we grabbed dinner at the Saturna Lighthouse Pub before heading back to Swartz Bay. A 62km weekend, but with limited sunlight and feeling good both days, I knew I was ready to take on more.
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